Tag Archives: english lit

This morning, I got to do something I haven’t been able to do in a long time. I woke up on my day off, turned on the light, picked up a book from my bedside table and read. The luxury of simply reading for the love of reading is one I have struggled to find time for since university.

What do your books say about you? (I don’t mean behind you back.) The books currently sat on my bedside table could tell you a lot about me.

The Unknown Unknown, Mark Forsyth

Where did I get it? Received this in the post, adorned with a post-it, which read, “Thought you might enjoy reading this. Granny x” After receiving said delightful little package, I rang my Gran. She said it reminded her of my blog, the way I ramble, tangents veering off.

The tagline reads: “Bookshops and the delight of not getting what you wanted.” Do you know what a good bookshop is? Forsyth does. I haven’t been in a good bookshop since I was in New York and my wonderful aunt took me to a little treasure trove, where I discovered Verlyn Klinkenborg.

While I would happily tell you more about this little beautie, I’m concerned I might ruin the joy of an “unknown unknown.” It took less than an hour to read, and made me laugh out loud several times. Clever and witty without trying to be. Delightful in its purposelessness.

Bookmark: A page torn from my notepad at work. It is the beginnings of a short story I started writing during that last useless hour of a work day. Between half 4 and half 5, when no one really does anything but wait for the day to end. The Twilight Hour.

I have since continued writing the story on the computer at work – typing gives the impression of doing something productive – and I’m hoping to extend this into a collection of short stories. Might post a snippet on here at some point.

Don Quixote, Miguel de Cervantes

Where did I get it? Waterstones, Oxford.

This is one of the classics that follows you around. One of those epic, brick-like monstronsities that act as an adequate book-end until you work up the courage to dig in. Our friend Forsyth puts it thus in The Unknown Uknown:

“Tolstoy, Stendhal and Cervantes, these men follow me around. They stand in dark corners and eye me disapprovingly from beneath supercilious eyebrows. And all because I’ve never got round to reading their blasted, thousand-page, three-ton, five-generation, state-of-a-nation thingummywhatsits.“

I’m taking on this monster. About 6 months in and I’m half way through. The adventures of the deluded knight, Don Quixote and his hapless copanion, Sancho Panza. It makes one giggle in a “Droll, Cervantes, very droll” kind of way. But there’s also the odd Dick Joke, which is nice.

Several Short Sentences About Writing

by Verlyn Klinkenborg

“The question isn’t, can the reader follow you?
That’s a matter of grammar and syntax.
The question is, will the reader follow you?” (128)

I’ve never written a book review, but I think it goes something like this: a brief description of subject, author and intended audience; list good and bad points; and a couple of pithy quotes. I shall largely adhere to this format. Though do forgive me if I find the implied rules of this genre too confining for my wild artistic tendencies.

So, to begin: a brief description of subject, author and intended audience…

This is a book written for writers by a writer about writing.

Too brief, perhaps.

While this text is applicable to writers of any experience or style, I think it is particularly useful for those at a turning point in their career as a writer – professional or otherwise. You might be taking on a new genre, or adapting to an alternative medium – you wouldn’t write an internet blog like you would a private diary entry, for example. Or you might be moving from school to university, or university to the working world, and experiencing the imperative to evolve as a writer as well as a person. It is this last writer to whom I particularly recommend this book.

I have personally struggled with the step up from school to university writing. It is a transition that leads to anxiety. Be more mature, be more sophisticated. Be “better”. While university is the place to improve and mature, a better writer grows, not by anxiously reaching, but by exploring and experimenting. Don’t be bogged down by the “rules” of writing as they were dogmatically put to you in the early years of education. Respect the rules, of course, but don’t be afraid to challenge them. Verlyn Klinkenborg is emphatic on this point. “And yes, you may begin a sentence with ‘but.’” (119)

A revised brief description: this book is for the reader who is struggling to find her voice.

… good and bad points…

I am loath to tritely fulfil this requirement. I shall rather offer a few points of interest:

On VK’s style: he really does practise what he preaches. Expect many short sentences about writing.

Don’t be precious about clichéd notions of “what it is to be a writer”. In fact, don’t be precious about clichés, full stop.

“A cliché is dead matter.
It causes gangrene in the prose around it, and sooner or later it eats your brain.” (45)

He isn’t a romantic. There will be no coddling.

VK follows the recent trend of using “her” as the generic pronoun in his text. I’m trying it out. I still find it odd on the ear, but then perhaps I’m antifeminist.

His style isn’t for everyone. He makes no exceptions and allows no excuses. But he does not patronise you. His is a clear, forthright voice. He does not seek to trick or beguile, and though witty at times, his humour is curt at best. Some may find him abrasive, others, refreshing.

At times you will feel like you are back at school. But, as I have already discussed, re-examining the confining and sometimes misleading rules of English school teaching is crucial. This is how you extinguish anxiety and allow your own voice to emerge confidently.

… and a couple of pithy quotes.

How about just one:

“You’re holding an audition.
Many sentences will try out.
One gets the part.
You’ll recognize it less from the character of the sentence itself
than from the promise it contains – promise for the sentences to come.” (101)

For someone as stubbornly independent as myself, the idea of reading a self-help book is somehow an insult to my intelligence. (Note: Stubborn independence is also another way of saying I like to think I’m cleverer than perhaps I actually am.) Self-help books carry a certain stigma for a not inconsiderable portion of society. There are those, on the other hand, that swear by them and attribute much of their happiness and success to such books. Self-help books are the Marmite of literature. To demonstrate this point, I typed the following phrase into a few popular search engines: “self help books are…” Take a look at the most common suggestions:

While Yahoo offers some more positive options, the overwhelming negativity of Google users (incidentally the more popular search engine) is hard to ignore. And Bing users follow the Google crowd (unsurprisingly), though with a somewhat underwhelming use of vocabulary.

So, why don’t we like self-help books? As for my personal reasons, I have already mentioned one: I think I’m too clever and too independent to need advice on how to live my life from a book. In addition, the popularly negative opinion of the genre results in a sense of shame and embarrassment when choosing to buy or read such books. In truth, while reading my newly bought copy of Feel The Fear And Do It Anyway by Susan Jeffers on the train earlier today, as the ticket conductor approached, my initial instinct was to hide the thing, throw it onto the adjoining seats and pretend it had been there long before I boarded, or else attempt to flush it down the train toilet – though such plumbing is often barely able to cope with the passing of its usual contents, let alone a whole book. In any case, association with such literature was to be avoided if at all possible – or so I thought. Continue reading →

Splurge (OED): An ostentatious display or effort. Also in phr. to cut a splurge , to make an ostentatious display.

I do this in literary form. Boom. Done.

… well not quite done. It’s also delightfully onomatopoeic. And I would like to think I offset any “ostentatious” wordiness with my commitment to immaturity. Poo, fart, bottom, boobies, willies, giggidy, oink, moo, pants… *spin around till you fall over*.